


midnights

by elizajane



Series: and behold, it was so very good [20]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas, Drabbles, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane/pseuds/elizajane
Summary: Fourteen Christmas midnights with Warlock.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: and behold, it was so very good [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1411705
Comments: 96
Kudos: 132
Collections: Twelvetide Drabbles 2019





	1. pudding

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be written as a series of 14 drabbles of 100 words each for the Twelvetide Drabbles 2019 challenge. One chapter will be posted per day between December 23, 2019 - January 6, 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: dates (an ingredient in [sticky toffee pudding](https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2011/apr/14/cook-perfect-sticky-toffee-pudding)).

On Warlock’s first Christmas the Dowlings receive a Very Important Invitation requiring their presence in London. This throws a wrench in Crowley’s plan to treat Aziraphale to the best (according to Crowley’s research) sticky toffee pudding in all of London.

“Order it takeaway, my dear,” Aziraphale says as Crowley fumes. “And then bring Warlock to the cottage.” 

That evening, Warlock sleeps in Crowley’s arm as they make a leisurely meal of wine and cheese. At midnight, per their tradition, Aziraphale pours whiskey and serves the pudding: “Sláinte.”

Warlock stirs and wakes, looking up at Crowley with his very first smile.


	2. market

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: chestnuts.

Sixteen-month-old Warlock has a cold on Christmas Eve, and the Dowlings are hosting. That means Crowley and Warlock are quarantined in the nursery with a humidifier. Aziraphale, left to his own devices, follows the sound of evening church bells into the village. Across the village from the church is a small Christmas market, stalls strung with lights, everything smelling delicious. After some deliberation, Aziraphale exchanges coins for a twisted paper of roasted chestnuts. Trudging back across frosty fields he takes wing beneath the stars and spends a tiny miracle to unlock the nursery window. “Merry Christmas, my dears,” he whispers.


	3. eggs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: eggs.

"Nanny!" Mr. Dowling calls, sharply, from across the hall. "It's time Warlock went to bed." Crowley refrains from observing that the two-year-old who's just collided with a server carrying a tray of scotch eggs is only awake because his parents insisted. Instead he just scoops Warlock up, murmuring against his ear, "Let's go visit Mr. Fell, shall we?"

The walk to Aziraphale's cottage is cold and clear. Warlock is nodding off against Crowley's shoulder when he steps through the front door. 

"Aha!" Aziraphale looks up from adding a log to the fire. "Come in and wait with me for midnight."


	4. vigil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: cloves (used in mulling spices).

“Why should _I_ know?” Crowley asks, passing the mulled wine back to Aziraphale.

“They didn’t say, when giving you tonight off?” Aziraphale warms the bottle before taking a sip.

“ ‘Course they didn’t,” Crowley glares over at the church. "Likely a publicity stunt: 'Ambassador and Mrs. Dowling attend Christmas Eve service with son.' "

“Could … do us good, in the long run?" Aziraphale tries, passing the wine back.

Crowley hisses, derisively. "Better if _you'd_ taken him."

"Not long ago, you would have leapt at the chance for our customary night out," Aziraphale reminds him.

“Yeah, well,” Crowley shrugs. “Christmas, midnight's _ours_ now."


	5. mahalabia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: rosewater.

Crowley and Warlock drive to London on Christmas Eve in search of rosewater. Technically speaking, Crowley could snap some into existence in order to make the mahalabia pudding he'd suddenly remembered that morning as a favorite of Aziraphale's back in the eighth century. But a shopping trip to London with one's nanny seemed like a slightly irresponsible bit of holiday excitement for four-year-old Warlock. They could visit one of Aziraphale's favorite tea rooms and eat far too much sugar, perhaps ride a carousel, or find a truly terrifying panto to attend. Then return home for a spot of festive cookery.


	6. plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: thyme.

Aziraphale returns to the sitting room with two hot toddies and Warlock’s hot chocolate to find Crowley and Warlock with next year’s seed catalogs spread across the carpet, demon and child earnestly comparing varieties of thyme. Given the circumstances, Aziraphale doesn’t feel he should be judged  _ too  _ harshly for nudging a fog bank to settle firmly over Iceland, delaying the Dowlings’ return from New York by twelve hours at least. “Now, while you two plan my summer gardens,” he says, settling on the sofa, “what am I reading you next:  _ The Runaway Sleigh Ride  _ or  _ A Child’s Christmas in Wales _ ?”


	7. waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: barley.

Warlock kneels on the window seat as darkness falls, watching the birds feast on the barley tied by garden gate as he waits for Crowley's return from London.

Aziraphale stands in the sitting room doorway, considering the drawings scattered across the rug: bright butcher-paper creations in bold colors, The floor is awash in flowers and vines, birds, and small woodland creatures. Aziraphale knows from experience he's not meant to ask the artist questions so instead he skirts the periphery and settles at Warlock's side with his cup of tea.

"Don't worry," he says. "Nan knows to be back before midnight."


	8. speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: pomegranates.

"... said we'll walk up Nutter's Hill to watch the sunrise!" 

Aziraphale freezes in the doorway: Warlock, last seen asleep on the sofa, now awake and chatting happily with a very particular snake.

<<Good Christmas plans.>> Crowley says, gravely. <<Stay warm.>>

"We will," Warlock sighs. "Nan _always_ makes us wear hats and scarves and mittens and extra socks."

"What … a surprise, my dear," Aziraphale manages, sitting down.

"Nan said," Warlock says, patiently. "At midnight on Christmas Eve, animals can speak!"

Crowley curl his tail around the opened pomegranate he and Aziraphale had been eating and lifts it up to offer Warlock.


	9. doughnuts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: nutmeg.

"Now remember," Crowley stops, with a hand on Warlock's shoulder, just outside the pâtisserie near Paddington. "What did I say?"

"No telling Mr. Fell."

"Why?"

Warlock rolls his eyes. "It's a  _ Christmas _ surprise Nan. You don't tell about  _ Christmas _ surprises!"

They go inside and Crowley buys Warlock a hot chocolate along with the true reason for their trip to London on this Christmas Eve morning: a baker's dozen of the bakery's signature doughnuts coated in fine sugar and grated nutmeg. Aziraphale  _ adores _ them. And Crowley's Christmas present to himself, this year, is getting to be watching Aziraphale enjoy eating them.


	10. lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: oranges.

" _ You _ take clementines,  _ I'll _ take oranges." Crowley fumbles fruit from the bowl, dexterity slightly compromised by Aziraphale's eggnog.

"Start -- start with  _ one _ ." Crowley shows Warlock, tossing an orange left to right and back again. Warlock mimics him, frowning in concentration.

"Now  _ two  _ \-- like so." Crowley adds the second and manages several rounds before he fumbles a catch: an orange goes rolling toward the stove.

"Do you actually  _ know _ how to juggle, my dear?" Aziraphale asks, pausing in his assembly of the tea tray to bend down and intercept the fruit. 

"Learned from the inventor herself!" Crowley growls, truthfully.

Warlock giggles.


	11. fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: cinnamon.

Aziraphale sifts cinnamon sugar over halved apricots before sliding them into the oven to roast. In the sitting room he can hear Crowley teaching Warlock the rules to whist. Something about the sound of their voices, weaving together, so familiar and beloved, makes Aziraphale tremble in fury and fear. Before he accidentally sets something aflame, Aziraphale steps out into the kitchen gardens and raises his face to the clear night sky, facing east. 

**_He is a_ ** **child.** He says in words only She will hear. 

**Our** **_child._ **

**_I ask you to protect him,_ ** he whispers,  **_in the year to come._ **


	12. bee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: honey.

The envelope under the Dowling’s Christmas tree bears no return address. Warlock makes sure he’s alone before tearing open the seal. Inside, a small box holds a tiny life-size  _ apis mellifera _ , constructed entirely of fine wire, sparkling up at him from its nest of tissue. Folded around the box is a cream-colored sheet of stationary bearing a message in a familiar, spidery hand: 

_ Merry Christmas Warlock. Sat with the artist for an afternoon while he made this. Thought you would appreciate the accuracy and skill. He was pleased to hear it was a gift for an accomplished embroiderer. xo Nan. _


	13. clues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: marzipan.

The parcel is waiting, in plain brown paper, when the Dowlings return from America: A richly illustrated guidebook to wildflowers of the British Isles wrapped together with a box of marzipan sweets. 

_ Dear Warlock, _

_ This is considered a classic in the taxonomy of wildflowers. Some of the terminology may be outdated but the illustrations are sound.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Mr. Fell.  _

As Warlock lifts the lid of the candy box a business card falls out, bearing a London address. Warlock scrambles for the card and tucks it away for safekeeping. London is a big place. But Warlock knows he is quite clever.


	14. home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: chocolate.

The cottage is still a work in progress so Nan is anxious, which means Az is fussing, but Warlock can't think of a place he'd rather be this Christmas Eve.

"Drinking chocolate for the players," Az says, coming through from the kitchen with a laden tray. "Are you warm enough, my dear?"

Nan looks up from their game of vingt-et-un, which he's losing to Warlock's satisfaction. "You've made sure I am."

Later, near midnight, Az lights the candles on the tree. In their glow Warlock lets his eyes drift closed, knowing Nan and Az will be there when he wakes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for your joyous participation via comments! It's been a pleasure. I will be picking up Warlock's reunion with Crowley and Aziraphale, as well as the acquisition of the cottage near Tadfield, in the weeks to come. <3


End file.
